Chapter 6
Emma
Raze: Let's try again. Let me take you out tonight.
I've been staring at my phone and the text that just came through 60—no, 90 seconds ago now. I honestly don't know what to say. I look around my bedroom, hoping the answer will come to me like it's hidden in the depths of my scarf collection that hangs off my closet door.
I went on a date with Raze last night. It was… not great. I don't know how it's possible, but it was one of the worst dates I've ever been on, and I once had my high school boyfriend bring me to a video game party where he and 10 of his nerdy friends played on their computers with each other while I passed around snacks. That was better than last night.
It wasn't any one thing, it was a series of things. Maybe my expectations were too high. I mean, I've been daydreaming about Raze for so long. He texted me the same day we kissed and made plans for yesterday. I had him meet me in front of the coffee shop, and he picked me up at 6 last night.
First, he didn't tell me where we were going and ended up bringing me to the fanciest restaurant in the city, Viola. I did ask him what I should wear, but I was still underdressed.
When I commented on my clothes and that maybe I should go home and change, his response was, 'fuck 'em.' Sure, if you're a famous, wealthy MMA champion, you can get away with that. But, if you're a mousy, quiet girl with no connections, I think it's acceptable to feel underdressed at a 5-star restaurant on your first date.
Within the first ten minutes, someone was asking for his autograph. I had no idea he was that famous, but he assured me it was only local fame. While he's well known on the MMA circuit, ordinary people at restaurants wouldn't know him if we were outside the city, which I was beginning to think that's where we should have been. Somewhere else. Because no less than six people interrupted us the entire meal.
Also, he was quiet. I answered every question he asked, but when I returned the favor, he deflected in one way or another. It felt like I was having a one-sided conversation the entire date, and that would be okay, because I can relate to feeling reserved, but I felt so nervous being with him that everything I said came out in a stutter, or I spoke so quietly he had to keep asking me to repeat myself.
If this wasn't all enough, when he wasn't answering one of my questions about himself and I wasn't talking, somewhere in between the quiet moments of conversation, I fantasized about him. Every inch of him—the dark weight of his stare, the intense way he soaked up every word I said, no matter how uncomfortable I seemed or how stuttered my words came out. Somewhere between the garlic knots and my glass of red wine, my thoughts turned explicit and I kept thinking, is he big? Would the sex be incredible? Does he know how to use his tongue?
I kept picturing him climbing across the table and ripping the tablecloth off, full glasses and plates shattering on the ground around us. In my fantasy, he tore all my clothes off and ravaged me right there in front of everyone, licking and sucking before pulling out his huge cock and slamming into me. People gawked and stared, some started filming, but we didn't stop. In my fantasy, we're exhibitionists.
It didn't matter how much of a disaster our date was, Raze still lit a fire inside me, one that incited over a year ago when he first walked into the coffee shop. And in those quiet moments, I knew there was no way I would be able to date him. Not when I could barely look him in the eye, because I was too busy pretending I wasn't having sexually explicit fantasies of him. It was oppressive, trying to pretend to be normal.
What would Raze think if he found out my imagination is filthy? People might assume guys find it a turn-on to have a girlfriend who wants to experiment, who wants sex all the time. But the reality is that I'm too much work and not worth the effort—I know this from first-hand experience. Plus, men tend not to think of me in that way. I could play the sexy librarian role, but that's not real life.
This truth about me is what sent my last boyfriend running. He broke up with me after 2 years because I freaked him out. As in, I, Emma Marie Baker, freaked out my boyfriend because I finally got the courage to tell him I wanted to try anal. I didn't even tell him I had been playing with toys and was ready and willing, I never got that far. He admitted he felt like we weren't compatible, that he didn't want to try to keep up with me, called me a sex freak, a few other really mean names, then broke it off. He was the kind of guy who preferred scheduled missionary sex with the lights off, so I couldn't be surprised.
But I haven't had the guts to go on a date since, let alone tell a guy that I was into trying something kinky in the bedroom. So my boyfriend breaking up with me over my one guilty pleasure was a blow to my ego.
Actually, it was a blow to my heart. So to go on a date with the man who stars in my dreams, who could barely string two words together for me, does not exactly inspire me to think I could ever share my deep dark fantasies.
When the night was blessedly over, Raze insisted on driving me home, only I refused to tell him where I lived.
Why? I don't know. I live in the small apartment above the coffee shop, I could have just told him he already did drive me home. But, I got nervous, and the more he pushed, the more stubborn I felt. I mean, why does he care? It was a subpar date, and I hadn't been on a date in years. If a bus had run through the restaurant window, the night would have improved. I was dissatisfied and annoyed.
We didn't kiss, and even though the date wasn't good, I still hoped we would. When Raze kissed me in the back hallway of the coffee shop, it was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. Nothing even compares to how it felt; he made me burn and ache for him with barely any effort.
Which is why the whole night was so confusing.
That was last night. Tonight, he wants to try again. Let me take you out tonight. I'm tempted to ask him why, but, despite our awkward date, I still want to see him again. I need to talk it through with another person. From a female's perspective, because if I tried to email Rafi for advice, he likely wouldn't get back to me. He rarely does when I mention other guys.
I carry my phone into the kitchen and set it on the counter, and call Alice on speaker. While it rings, I pull out bread, peanut butter, and jelly. Maybe not that healthy, but at least I didn't dig through the bag of day-old donuts, which I'm tempted to do.
I’m digging into the jar of crunchy peanut butter with a butter knife when she picks up.
"Waddup bitch!" Alice yells into her phone. "Oh shit, am I late for something? I'm not supposed to be working, am I? You only call when I'm late for work," she panics, but I assure her that no, she's not supposed to be at work. It's almost 3 pm, I closed a few minutes early because the coffee shop was dead.
"Actually, I was hoping to use you as a soundboard."
"Oh, do tell!" She yells excitedly. I notice I'm on speaker as well when her hands clap enthusiastically.
"Well… you know that guy I went on a date with?" I bite my nail and cringe at my own question.
"Uhh, you mean the one you've been wanting to bone forever? The hottie with the body who kissed you because you cried and then took you to a fancy-ass restaurant last night? Yeah. What about him? You told me it was great."
I did. I texted her last night after I got home because she wanted to make sure I got home alright. "I lied. It wasn't great. It was… ugh, Alice, it was terrible!" I drop my head into one of my hands and scratch my fingers through my hair.
"Wait, what? What do you mean? Why!?"
"I don't know. It was just awful. All these people kept wanting his autograph. And he took me to this super fancy restaurant, and I know I shouldn't complain about that, but he didn't warn me, and I was wearing skinny jeans and a ridiculous neon sweater! I panicked when I was getting ready and ended up totally underdressed."
She commiserates, "So uncool."
"And THEN, as if that wasn't enough," I wave the peanut butter around animatedly, talking with my hands, "he had me order first. So, obviously, I ended up ordering something covered in butter and cheese, and he ordered, like, the healthiest thing on the menu, with dressing on the side! I know I'm being nitpicky at this point. I know that. But, he also barely said two words to me the whole dinner. And… I don't know. It just wasn't good," I finish disappointedly.
"Oh, that sucks. So, no chemistry?"
"No, that's not it. We have a ton of chemistry," I think aloud. It's not like I have much experience to compare him to, but I'm certain chemistry isn't our issue. He couldn't fake that kiss in the back of the coffee shop.
"Huh. Okay. Well, do you want to see him again?"
"He texted me just now and said he wants to go out again."
"Maybe he thought the date was a success?"
"I don't know how that's possible. He'd have to be emotionally neutered not to notice. In which case, I wouldn't be interested in dating him."
"Okay. Well, be honest with him. Tell him where you're at, what you're feeling."
I finish swiping the jelly on the bread. "You're right. I'll be upfront with him. Maybe he's just asking out of obligation."
"Girl, he's into you. Besides, what does he have to feel obligated about? Okay, let me ask you this—do you like him? Are you still crushing on him even though the date sucked?"
"Yeah…"
"Then I think you have your answer. But there's no reason you need to try a third time if the next date sucks."
"You're right. Thanks, Alice, I appreciate it."
"No prob, Em. Love you. Lemme know how it goes!" We hang up, and I stare at my phone for a second before deciding how to respond to Raze. I bite into my sandwich and grab a seat on the kitchen stool.
I love my apartment, it's my safe place. It's comfortable, and I've lived here for years. And, I can picture Raze here, hanging out with me. He's larger than life, but there's something humble about him too. He'd fit in amongst my mismatched walls and painted vintage cupboards.
But I don't think I could date him only halfway. I wouldn't be able to hide my… idiosyncrasies. I take another bite of my sandwich as the realization settles. I have to be honest with him, right up front. Or rather, I want to be.
I could be brave and tell him who I am on the inside. Best case scenario, he's into it. Worst case scenario, he finds a new coffee shop to go to and avoids me for the rest of our lives. I'm honestly not sure which scenario I prefer right now. But the sooner we figure it out, the better, because I can't take these nerves.
Emma: Are you sure you want to go on another date? I type out.
Raze: Yes. He replies right away.
Emma: I live above the coffee shop. You did drive me home…
I watch three dots appear on the screen, but they disappear. My phone is suddenly ringing with Raze's name on the screen. I screech and toss the phone up in the air. I scramble after it, but in my efforts, I accidentally press the 'answer' button and hear his voice calling out of the phone.
"Hello? Emma?" He sounds concerned.
I managed to calm my shaking hands and pick up the phone. "Hey! Oh, hey, what's up?"
"Listen, about last night…" He sighs into the phone, "It wasn't exactly how I thought it would go… I don't know. Can we try again?"
"Umm… I mean, yes, I'd like to go out again. But maybe, this time, can we go someplace where no one will recognize you?"
"Yeah. I'm really sorry about that, I had no idea that would happen. I have a fight in a couple of weeks, so my face has been plastered around on billboards and shit. I wasn't expecting all that attention. But yes, I promise I'll pick a better spot this time."
"Are you sure you want to do this? You didn't seem interested in talking at all… I guess I'm just wondering if you don't like to talk about yourself because of the fame? I'm not going to sell your story or something if that's what you're worried about. It's just hard to get to know someone who doesn't answer any questions about themselves." There. Honesty.
He sighs again, and I wonder what his hang-up is, if he'll tell me. He waits a beat before responding.
"Look, there are some things about me I'm not ready to share with you. I'm not trying to keep anything from you or be sketchy, I just need a little time before I tell you more about myself. I didn't mean to dodge your questions all night."
Before I second-guess him, he continues, "Can we just start over? For now, can we talk about who we are and where we're going, not who we've been? And I know it’s a lot to ask, but can you not look me up online? I promise you I'll tell you everything. I just want a little more time with you first, so you can get to know me."
It's a weird request, but I'm not one to judge. I don't think he's hiding anything dangerous. Beyond that, am I willing to give him time, to be honest about himself? Yes, I am. Because I hope he'll give me the same courtesy. So we both have secrets? He's admitting he's got some things he keeps hidden but plans to tell me the truth. I can respect that. I can even relate.
"Okay. That sounds good. Thank you, Raze. What's your real name, by the way? Raze is like a stage name or something, right?"
"Yeah, it is a nickname, but it's what most people call me. And thanks for telling me where you live, I didn't like leaving you at the coffee shop last night, but I guess I feel better knowing I really did drive you home." He laughs lightly. "So, tonight then? I'll pick you up at the same time, okay?"
"Sure. What should I wear?"
"Dress comfortably. Nothing fancy this time, I swear. Maybe bring an extra sweater, it may get a little cooler tonight."
We finish making plans, and it isn't until we hang up that I realize he didn’t tell me his real name.